The Proposal
by jigglyjelly28
Summary: For three years, Hermione Granger has slaved as the assistant to Draco Malfoy, Chief Editor at Dragonhide Publishers. When Draco, former Death Eater, is sentenced to 6 years in Azkaban after his 5 year trial is brought to a close, he hatches a scheme to show the Wizengamot his ideals on Muggles and Muggle-borns have changed. Based on the film "The Proposal"
1. Chapter 1

**A/n - There's too many story ideas in my head and someone needs to take them off me! I just ****_had _****to publish at least one chapter to this story, even if my others aren't finished. I love the idea of this one too much, and I just want to meddle around with Hermione and Draco as ****_adults _****and with the War a few years behind them. Goddammit.**

**This story is based on the movie "The Proposal". **

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CHAPTER 1: LATTES AND LATE-TO-WORK DAYS

"_Shit_."

Hermione Granger quickly swung her legs over the side of her bed after she read the numbers on the clock face and stopped the incessant beeping. Usually, she would have been awake almost half an hour ago now and on her way out of the house to pick up a latte for her boss and herself from Starbucks, but today she was only just stepping out of her shower and hastily drying herself.

She checked the time again and cursed. He would be walking into his office in about five minutes now, and she would be dammed if she had to see his bloody smirk as he told her with too much pleasure and amusement that she was late. Hermione had only been late once before – and that was on her first day of employment. Right after that work day had ended, she swore to herself to do all things possible to make sure she _never_ had to see that pleased grin on his pointy face again. So far, she had lived up to that promise that she had made, but today, stupidly, she had allowed herself to slip up.

Again and again, her boss had tried to cause her to be late by loading her up with various tasks the day or night before that just _had_ to be done in the morning – mainly because she still had stuff to do the day or night previous. And he only cared enough to bury her with work because she suspected that he had made a promise to himself at her interview, when he had arrogantly replied to her remark by saying she might not able to serve someone without screwing up - and then (as he put it) "showed great generosity by hiring her then and there". He didn't even allow her to let the fact that he had hired her sink in before dismissing her from his office, telling her what latte he expected to have handed to him and when and that if she was late 3 times, she was fired. If she remembered correctly, he had then slammed the door in her face – but not before she caught a glance of his smug face.

She quickly put on her shoes, grabbed her wand, and made her way down the stairs of her apartment block. She checked the time once more and sighed irritably. If she knew the habits of her boss at all from the time she had been working for him, he was already at his office and would have gleefully noticed her absence as soon as he stepped out of the lift. Right now, as she burst through the doors of Starbucks, she thought, he was probably totalling up the minutes that she was late.

Smug bastard.

In the back of her mind, Hermione feared that her boss, _the_ Draco Malfoy, ferret extraordinaire, had finally become powerful enough to cause everything in her life on this particular day to be a complete disaster. She knew that she was too late to try gain back any satisfaction of trying to arrive there before him, but she was planning at least not to be late by much. However, that clearly had been destroyed from the size of the line inside of the building.

The line, starting from the cash register at the desk and stretching all the way back to a little bit before the doors, was going to at least take half an hour to wait in – but she didn't have that sort of time. Usually, the queue never quite reached the length of this one, and even now, she couldn't think of a reason why so many people were up today at almost 9 o'clock in the morning. As far as she knew, there was nothing special about today.

Back to the task at hand. Would it be less painful to arrive without his latte or with his latte, but almost an hour late? She just didn't know.

"Hermione! Hey, Hermione Granger!" Someone called from the front of the queue. She vaguely recognised the voice and looked around the line of people to see whom it was that was calling her name. As soon as she saw who it was, she could've slapped herself on the head, if it were not that she was in public. He tilted his shaggy blond head for her to come down to the front desk, where he was actually standing behind, and handed her two cups.

Sometimes she questioned her boss's constant need to have the same flavoured latte from the same shop (which was coincidentally on the corner of the block she lived on; sometimes she thought he only hired her for that reason) every single day of work, but it was times like today that she was grateful.

"You probably need these," he said with a smile as they made an exchange: her money for the lifesaving lattes.

She placed a quick kiss on his cheek, said, "I owe you one, Nate" and ran back through the doors, as well as she could while cradling two cups to her chest and while in heels.

By some miracle, she had made it to the Apparation point down one of London's less dodgy alleyways, which she used every morning going to work and every evening on the way home, without tripping over and breaking her ankle or spilling the hot liquid down her. She was just ready to Apparate when he phone rang. Hermione made a distressed noise as she quickly levitated the two cups with her wand, before tucking it inside her skirt and searching for her phone in her bag. She didn't even need to check the ID to know who could possibly be calling her this early.

She answered the call and pressed the phone to her ear, a lie about just arriving outside the building on her lips, but he spoke first. "You're late," a drawling voice said. She could almost hear the smirk through the phone and she dug her fingernails into her hand to refrain from saying something snarky back to him that would delay her even longer. "How long has it been now? Oh, it looks like you're coming up to an hour – that's the latest you've ever been. If you're late again Granger, I'll hold true to my promise and fire you." There was a pause on his side of the line as she heard him speak to someone else briefly before returning his attention back to her. "You should hurry up; I've got a meeting in ten minutes and I need to see you before attending it."

"Don't let me keep you," she grumbled and he tutted quietly on the other side. She rolled her eyes. "I'm almost there, anyway. I'm just outside the building as we speak."

He chuckled. "You amuse me Granger, thinking that you can lie to me like that." She heard something fall on his end of the phone, as if he had thrown a stack of books onto the floor. She grimaced; it would seem like something he'd do, especially since there had been moments where she had walked into his office at the wrong time – and the books strewn across the floor, unfortunately, were the second thing for her to notice. Although, truth be told, she had only walked in on her boss having company in his office twice, before she learnt that it would be best to announce herself in case he was busy again. The other times books had been thrown on the floor the reason behind it had been a lot more innocent, such as when he was angry, needing room to kick his legs up onto his desk or for a seat on the windowsill on a nice day.

It gave her great relief to think that he was most likely not having sex whilst on the phone to her, especially since it must be a mood killer. Still, it was probably a plausible suggestion for Malfoy if he ever wanted to ruin her day even more, and he was terribly good at keeping up a facade and controlling his voice.

"I can actually see you-"

Wait.

"You're spying on me?" She whispered furiously down the phone, trying not to draw attention to herself by screeching.

He scoffed. "Please, Granger. I don't take time out of my day to watch where you go especially; I happen to do this for all my employees when they're late. I need to know that they're not lying in their own pool of blood in a ditch somewhere."

" Thoughtful," she commented dryly. Deep down, however, she wondered how Malfoy was able to see where she was, considering the alleyway that she was in was mostly blocked from view by tall banking buildings – and besides that, she was an hour away from him, if she walked. His own eyesight couldn't possibly be that wide range.

Draco purposely ignored her comment. "Anyway, I can see you standing in an alleyway with our lattes levitating, which you should probably do something about because a group of possible-Muggles are headed your way," he said quickly; but bored, as if he couldn't really care less if she broke the Secrecy Statute. Hermione quickly put her hand underneath the two cups and broke the levitation spell wandlessly just as a group of hung-over men brushed past her, stumbling slightly on their own two feet and shielding their faces from the sunlight. "Wandless," he commented, sounding impressed. However, if she ever brought it up to him, he'd deny it with his every fibre. "I don't know where you found the time to practice." He let the sentence hang for a moment, as if letting her catch onto the fact that he was implying something. She tapped her foot impatiently. It was as if he wouldn't acknowledge that she had a life before working for him sometimes. "But, anyhow, you're late and have roughly five minutes to meet me at my office."

She began to say that she would've been there already if his phone call hadn't wasted her time, but before she could even say anything, he had already hung up. Grumbling, she put her phone away, grabbed her wand and Apparated to the outside of the building.

At the point when one of the lattes spilled down the front of her shirt after someone pushed the door that she had just Apparated outside of open and knocked her, Hermione knew that any semblance of hope that today could improve was washed away in the spilled liquid. She angrily threw the wasted cup into the bin and brushed past the woman who was the cause of the accident, and into the building where she scourgified her shirt and used a Drying Charm.

Hermione had hoped to go through this job right up until the time she was either fired or quit without Draco Malfoy discovering how pathetic she was to order the same flavoured latte as him, in the extremely unfortunate case that one spilled. However, it wasn't to say that she didn't like his taste in latte – in fact, over the years, she had grown accustomed to it and it had just become a part of her daily routine. It was just that she wished that there wasn't a reason for her to order the same as him. Nevertheless, it seemed that another habit that she had once thought stupid had proved to be useful. Even if it did meant giving up her drink for him.

Once she exited the elevator onto the correct floor, everyone who was working in their offices or walking about the hall to take care of some errands, looked over to where she was standing, latest of them all in a coffee-stained shirt, holding the only thing that could possibly bring him back from whatever bad mood he was currently in.

They looked at her as if she was their saviour. Though she didn't admit it arrogantly as some people would, she believed that at times she was their saviour. Whenever he exited his office, whether he was in a good mood or bad (there was hardly a time when the two words weren't relatively synonymous), she made sure to fire a red spark to each of those inside their own to make sure that they weren't caught not working, as she knew that many of them tended to do.

Really, Hermione was rather impressed and curious as to how the company was still running when 80% of the time his workers were doing the minimum.

She'd be lying to herself if she didn't think that he didn't notice how quickly they turned back to what they were doing every time he so much as poked his head out his door. Yet, he never said anything to her or his workers about it – be it a thank you or a request for her to stop doing whatever she was doing.

The stares continued up until the time she walked through his door. She almost spilt the last latte as he barged past her to leave his office, but he had clearly thought through his rudeness, and grabbed the cup out of her hand before shouldering her out of the way. "Walk and talk Granger, you've made me late," he said as he sipped his drink. He pulled a disgusted face as he looked over his shoulder at her. "It's warm."

"Like you've told me multiple times as if I didn't know, Mr Malfoy, I was late," she drawled. "It obviously wasn't going to still be hot by the time I got here."

He didn't have to verbally reply to her, but she knew (even though she was behind him) that he rolled his eyes or mocked her under his breath. "Look, the meeting I'm going to now is about the marketing of the spring books and I'll be stuck there until..." He pulled out his silver pocket watch and checked the time. "Early afternoon, it looks like. Before I go in, I need to know that you've accomplished one little thing that I've asked of you and request that you do another."

They reached the elevator at the other end of the hall and he pressed the button to call it down. "Now, did you call that woman back that I asked you to do two days ago? Tell me you did Hermione Granger, your job depends on it."

The doors dinged and opened. Malfoy reached behind him and propelled Hermione forward into the elevator by his hand on her back, before following in after her, grinning at her disgruntled look. He waited silently for her to press the button to take him to his destination, without actually telling her what floor this meeting was taking place on. She huffed quietly and was about to press the button for level five, since that was where most of his meetings took place, but risked a glance at him before pushing it. He didn't even turn his head to look at her as he amusedly shook it. Hermione waited for him to say something, but when his only response to her waiting was an impatient noise, she, with thinly veiled restraint, hovered her finger over each of the levels and watched for his reaction, until she found the right one. She jabbed it angrily, it being the only thing that she could take her anger out on.

Malfoy waited for the lift to begin descending before speaking again. "Well, did you?"

For the second time that day, her fingernails bit into her hand to remind her about who she was talking to – it worked, barely. Of course, she could've answered him as they were getting into the elevator, but he had a thing about not talking until the doors were closed and they were moving. "Which one?" She asked politely.

He waved his hand about as he tried to recall whom exactly they were talking about. "You know the one. Merlin, what was her name again? The blonde one that had the big breasts and skinny legs – that one." He cupped the air in front of his chest, as if she needed to have some form of a visual representation to jog her memory. Truth be told, there had been several skinny blonde bimbos that had walked in and out of his office, requesting different things from him with the common aim of having a book published or at least their manuscript read – Hermione couldn't begin to picture which one he was on about. "If I remember correctly, you walked in on me fucking her on the desk once."

Ah, now that simple fact actually narrowed it down. The two times that she had accidentally walked in on a private moment, were with two relatively opposite girls – though, from what she had seen, she couldn't deny that there was the common factor of fairly large breasts and overall skinniness. She could remember with perfect clarity now – even if she didn't want to – the day it happened and how it happened, but most importantly the tall blonde that he was talking about. "She was French, right? I think her name was Marie."

He scoffed, seemingly ignoring her suggestion about what her name was. "Oh _please_," he said, taking another sip of his drink and looking over to her. This wasn't the first time where Hermione thought that the only time he used the word please – or knew how to use it – was when he was being condescending or was about to prove himself right. "She wasn't French. She was merely a resourceful witch who had heard about my interest in France and went out searching for some Charm in a book that happened to allow her to speak French. She clearly thought that it was a new and clever way to try and seduce me into getting her a publishing deal."

For someone who absolutely loved to be showered with attention, he didn't seem that impressed by the troubles the witch had seemed to go through to try to be different. Even if it was because she was attempting to manipulate him through sex.

"And how exactly did you discover this amazing ability of yours, where you can correctly discern the nationality of someone? Marie certainly sounded it – and spoke the language fluently."

" Honestly, I can't believe you fell for it, Granger. I thought you were smarter than that." He rolled his eyes dramatically as he prepared to launch into an explanation where he would outline the precise reason why he was correct about everything for the millionth time.

"Anyway, I had my suspicions from the beginning when she introduced herself to me as a French pureblood and I didn't recognise her name, because I of course, have met every fucking pureblood in France. Therefore, in the middle of throwing her on my desk I told her that she smelt like a wet Hippogriff." He smiled proudly at her, as if he was the most creative person in the world with the insult that he had conjured in his lust-crazed mind. However, she also knew that his smile was his indication that said, "This is going to get a whole lot better, Granger, so pay attention because this is the part where I knew I was spot on."

"What I can only assume would be a major turn-off to everyone, she, strangely, was only turned on more and replied with something about needing to rip my clothes off too." The doors opened then and he quickly walked out, with his long strides, and called something back to her about keeping up as she walked quicker behind him to make up for her shorter strides. "So, see? She'd say something in English and it'd come out French; she didn't even have to think about translating it. She "spoke" it but didn't understand it."

They rounded a corner of offices and it seemed that even people on this level, nine floors below him avoided him like the plague. He paid them no mind as they walked out their workplaces, only to see him, and turn around to go back inside.

"Where is your meeting?" She asked, looking around at all the occupied conference rooms and frowning. "You told me you were late."

He grinned mischievously at her and leant on the wall by, what she assumed, was the conference room where his meeting was supposed to take place. Currently, it seemed that those in there wouldn't be done for at least ten minutes more. "Yes, well, I lied. I just needed you to get here as soon as possible. You should take notes; maybe you'll finally learn when you're being deceived and how to deceive. It's been _three years_ – I thought you would've got it by now. It's all too easy." He drank some more of his beloved drink and discarded it on the floor by his feet. Although he seemed to hate it when it was anything less than boiling, he seemed to be taking a long time to drink it all. "But you called Marie, then? And told her exactly what I wanted you to?"

She took out her phone and checked her call history. "Yes. I did it yesterday and passed on your message word for word. For someone who claims to not have been seduced by her, you certainly are giving her what she wanted."

" I wasn't seduced by her," he said defensively. "Besides, someone that airheaded won't have their manuscript in by the end of this week, and so won't have their release date. And even if she does, I only promised her 5,000 starting copies. It sounds like a lot to someone like her, but you and I both know that she won't get far with as little as that. Not that anyone would want to buy a book like the one she wants put out."

" Why did you even grant her that many copies? Why did you promise her that you'd do it in the first place?"

"Because Granger - not that you could possibly know anything about the joys of getting laid - accepting her request was very rewarding for me." He smiled slyly at her discomforting imaginings of him as her face reddened from embarrassment and possible anger from the dig at her love life. He winked at her for good measure and she rolled her eyes.

It was always fun to mess with her.

"And, for the record, if I wanted you to question me on my every move, I would ask for you to bore me with every single flaw that you seem to find in all my business deals. I am successful, pet, and that's because I make good business deals."

She glared at him. It wasn't the first time that he had addressed her under the term "pet", and it had been happening a lot more often ever since he realised that he called her "Granger" too much and too often. In a workplace, the term "Mudblood" was widely not accepted, especially since the owner of the whole book publishing company was indeed a Muggle-born and the Ministry was on a crackdown to seek out anyone who still used it. However, she strongly suspected that any of Malfoy's previous prejudices had been broken down piece by piece while he was within this job, since the company supported publishing for Muggles as long as there was nothing that could break the Secrecy Statute. From when he had begun, he had been instructed to learn how to use a phone (which he had taken great pride in flashing about at every available second since she started, as if needing to say yes, look how much I have changed from Hogwarts and how intelligent I am. I have managed to learn successfully how to operate a mobile phone. Look at how I'm using _Muggle_ culture) and a computer, and was even required sometimes to speak to Muggles themselves.

In any case, calling her slave or anything along those lines wasn't entirely appropriate either, but, for some reason, pet was a fine way of addressing someone.

The people inside of the room that they were waiting outside of began to move and shuffle about in a manner that indicated that they were about to finish up whatever this particular meeting was about. He picked up his cup as those inside started to exit, and cradled it close to his chest as he waited for the last of them to come out.

"Like I said earlier, I need you to do something; and as I also said, this meeting won't be done until early afternoon. As you weren't in on time you probably don't know, since it wasn't you who informed me, but while my meeting is going on there is a staff meeting starting at 11, and I'll need you to attend it in my place," he stated. He huffed as if it was a major task as he made his way into the recently emptied room, taking a seat at the head of the table even though it wasn't his official conference. It wasn't uncommon for him to do things like this, Hermione knew, when he was the highest positioned employee in the room because no one would tell him to move. "Also, lucky for me I suppose, but the judgement on my ongoing trial is being made today so I need everything after I'm done with this to be cancelled. The trial has been happening for 5 years, I don't know how long it'll take to either clear my name or put me in Azkaban."

This was something that Hermione knew even before working for him, and so was something that she thought heavily about when applying for the part of his assistant. She almost wasn't going to accept his challenge because of it. If he was sent to Azkaban, then she would be out of a job once again and she'd have to start seeking out other places of employment that she had no interest in. This job was a whim; she was out of money at the time and bored doing nothing - this place paid nicely and was what she had some interest in. It wasn't any charity to help endangered magical creatures or a company that invented new ways to improve the lives of the Wizarding public, but what they did do was publish books.

Moreover, Malfoy had promised her when she began, as thanks for not leaving him with a useless temp, that he'd read her manuscript.

However, to her knowledge, that day had yet to happen, and she wasn't entirely prepared to be forced into leaving this job without her chance of being an author.

"Do you think it's gone well?" Hermione probed gently, trying to feel if she needed to start job searching as soon as he goes into his meeting.

He scoffed. "I work in a company that forces me into communicating with Muggles and using their technology. The boss is a Muggle-born," he said, with tired exaggeration. He pointed a finger at her suddenly, leaning forward in his chair. "_You_. I employed you, didn't I?"

She nodded once, deciding that he must've thought that his trial had been going well. After all, he did raise some good points; he had changed his lifestyle through work, so they could hardly accuse him of not evolving with the times. Other than that, he was being tried for his missions for the Death Eaters and attempted murder in the case of Albus Dumbledore. Of course, most people knew now that he was forced into doing such things and that he was underage in the beginning.

Others had been let off for less.

"Why," he said, slouching back into the high-backed chair, tapping his finger against his chin. "Do you not think I've done enough?"

There was a pause as Hermione thought about Draco's court case, in relation to what other things he had been accused of and what information they had in his defence. Draco called her out of her musings and gave her a hard look when he eyes focused back onto him.

"So, do you think I've done enough? Don't beat around the bush, Granger; I hired you because you're the only one who'd gladly tell me what I've done wrong, even when I don't want to hear it and it isn't necessary. Go on."

"Maybe there was more you could've done," she shrugged. "Anyone can fake that they're okay or enjoying their line of work. _Anyone _could have found a job that corresponds with Muggles."

Draco made a noise that sounded akin to a growl and dismissed her from the conference room. As she left, he called after her, saying, "Sometimes I wish I never hired you, Granger."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2: TRIAL EXCUSES AND ASSISTANT USES

Draco fixed his tie and patted down his suit, smoothing away any creases that may have formed on it. He pushed open the doors to the auditorium and walked in, taking a seat at the same place, as he had done every time he was called back to the court for the past 5 years. The same two guards that had flanked him for the past 5 years weren't there today; instead, they had been replaced by two older, burlier Aurors, who had their hands resting by their wands, ready for any sign of attack.

As Draco looked around, in fact, the only thing that seemed to have remained the same to this very day was the chair he was sitting on and the Wizengamot member that had been put in charge of his trial.

It didn't seem to Draco that this meant he was getting off on a clean slate. They probably brought in other witnesses and Aurors in case he had paid them off in order to escape a cell in Azkaban. However, if they were so cautious about that, Draco couldn't understand why they hadn't changed the judge. Unless they knew that his mind was already set on sending him away, or they bribed him to listen to the voices of the jury and go with the majority rather than his own mindset.

Draco couldn't believe that he didn't think of doing something like that himself.

"Mr Malfoy," his judge, Lord Jaxon Stewart, head of all the trials against the Death Eaters since they began gathering them in, started. So far, from what Draco had been reading up on, Jaxon had been fairly lenient with those accused; if he was sentenced, then it was mostly likely because of who he was. "At the beginning of this trial 5 years ago, you pleaded not guilty to the crimes that you are being charged against. Do you change your-"

"I am _not_ guilty," Draco blurted, wanting the trial to be over and done with. If he was going home, he wanted to go home. If he was going to Azkaban, he wanted to be cast in irons already.

Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true.

"My apologies, Lord Stewart," he added after he saw that someone in the jury was about to scold him for his impoliteness.

Stewart decided not to respond and instead began to familiarise the court with his charges. As the list was being read, Draco thought about how he could save himself from the cold prison cells. He had a job to do, back in Wizarding London, and in a few years time The Boss would be retiring and would need to hand the reigns of Dragonhide Publishers over to someone trustworthy - someone who knew how the company worked, someone who has been employed for a reasonable amount of time. Unfortunately, that couldn't be him if he was locked away.

What most of his crimes had in common were prejudices against Muggle-borns, _so clearly_, he thought, _if what Granger said to me is true, and that my job really doesn't serve to help me, then I need to find something that will._

Draco's thoughts lapsed into silence as he reflected back onto every article that he had read over the years, thinking about all the reasons he'd heard other Death Eaters were let off – or at least, the reasons that had allowed for a hearing and a further postponement on the trial.

_Ah_, he thought suddenly, sinking back into his chair in relief and covering his smirk as best as he could with his hand. _That should work nicely._

Jaxon Stewart cleared his throat and shuffled some papers, throwing Draco back into reality. "Now, I believe that everyone here has seen the records and evidence both in defence and against the accused?" There was a murmur of assent as Draco heard more papers being shuffled and people shifting in their seats, knowing that the trial was just about to wrap things up. "Brilliant. Mr Malfoy, are there any final words you wish to say on the matter before you are sentenced?"

Draco remained silent and shook his head firmly. Now was not the time to throw in his defence; he didn't even know what the outcome was yet.

"I now ask the members of the Wizengamot today to decide the fate of Mr Draco Lucius Malfoy, aged 26 and Chief Editor at Dragonhide Publishers in London. All those in favour of sending Mr Malfoy to Azkaban prison for the next 6 years, raise your hands."

Draco looked around, a light in his eye and his teeth gritted in determination. His predicted outcome was becoming fact. He sat up straighter, going over the final details in his mind about how he was going to sway the Wizengamot and convince them that he deserved a second chance. 5 years of trials couldn't have gone to waste so quickly.

Lord Stewart smacked the gavel onto his desk, the sound resounding throughout the room. "Then it is settled," he said. Behind him, Draco could feel the Aurors striding towards his seat, ready to restrain him and throw him into one of the carriages heading to Azkaban. He tried not to shift in his seat or give away any idea that he was worried, any movement that could give them indication that he was lying. "Mr Draco Lucius Malfoy, you will be escorted to Azkaban prison by a team of Aurors tonight, which will signify the start of your 6 year sentence for crimes against Muggle-borns and aid to Lord Voldemort during the War. If there is any form of resistance during your journey, the Aurors are authorised to use force. During your time in Azkaban, you will be allowed to have visitors, however if there is any bad behaviour reported, then that privilege will be revoked. Only reports of good behaviour and the mutual agreement of the Wizengamot will be able to reduce your sentence. Mr Malfoy, do you understand your charges?"

Draco nodded, remaining impassive. He needed to wait until they asked if he agreed with the charges and then ask why he had any disagreements to them. If he delivered it convincingly enough, then they would have to make inquires and push back his transportation to prison.

"Then this trial is officially finished." With another smack of the gavel, the Aurors hands were suddenly on Draco's shoulders and pulling him out of his chair and restraining his arms as he jerked, panicking, in their grip. Everyone was leaving, and he hadn't had a chance to save himself. _They were supposed to ask if I agreed!_

"_No_! Wait!" Draco suddenly shouted, surprising himself with how much anxiety was in his voice. He cleared his throat as Lord Stewart tiredly called for Aurors, and the members of the court, to stop.

"The trial has ended, Mr Malfoy. You denied the opportunity for last words," Lord Stewart said firmly, dismissively. The Aurors were once again dragging him to his temporary home with increasing force every time he jerked.

With all his wiggling, he managed to break free for precious seconds and called to them that they'd all be in a lot of trouble with the Minister - maybe before he even arrived at Azkaban - if they ignored his plea.

That caught the attention of the witnesses - and the ever-important Jaxon.

The Aurors seized him by the shoulders and were about to drag him once more, but the lord held up a hand and they stopped. One hand remained on each of his shoulders, however, like a warning. Or a reminder. Draco wasn't sure which one he preferred.

"I disagree with the charges," he said loudly, looking at each person individually. "_I am not guilty_! I was forced into the Death Eaters through threats to my life and my family, and in the same period of time was - once again - _forced _into killing Albus Dumbledore and creating a gateway for Death Eaters to enter Hogwarts – all while underage. As Malfoy Manor was used as headquarters, I'm sure it wouldn't be necessary to impart the knowledge of how impossible it would've been even to consider escaping."

None of them seemed impressed by his speech, but at least they were all listening. He knew that he needed to say something important in order to catch their attention, or his fate wouldn't be changed. It had been 8 years since the War ended - all of what he was saying now was common knowledge; everyone had found out eventually.

"As for my behaviour against Muggle-borns: if working at Dragonhide Publishers isn't enough to show the jury that I am capable of working with Muggles, Muggle-borns – or half-bloods, then I urge you to look at the evidence of my relationship with Hermione Granger."

He internally smiled in triumph as he felt the room's atmosphere change and registered the looks of curiosity on their faces. _Good_. He was winning slowly.

"In all the defences you have called forward, Mr Malfoy, none of them have even been related towards Miss Granger, other than your employment of her as your assistant," one member said. Her lips were pursed as she looked down on him, and her face said it all: she did not believe him for one minute. "Why bring up any form of relationship up with her now? There is no evidence of it. Why should your relationship with Miss Granger change your sentence?"

"Isn't it obvious why my sentence should change? Hermione Granger is one of the most renowned Muggle-borns. This, as I've been trying to prove since the beginning, shows that I am not prejudiced any longer. My relationship with her has only been used as a part of my defence now because Hermione has only recently accepted my advances. We were not in any form of relationship since the last trial, over a year ago. There had been no need then, my interest in her since her hiring was my business alone. As for the lack of evidence, we'd rather not have trash written about our lives and relationship. We're being secretive."

"How convenient," Lord Jaxon said, taking a seat once again at his court desk, the others following suit. "How convenient, indeed, Mr Malfoy. However, we have a report against your case from Miss Marie Thomson that states that you would not give her a publishing deal, being a Muggle-born, unless she engaged in sexual activity with you. This report was filed at the beginning of last month - and, Mr Malfoy, this hasn't been the first of such claims to be made. If such claims are proven to be true, it strengthens accusations towards your Muggle and Muggle-born prejudices; and as such, it will highlight either your infidelity to Miss Granger or add another crime to your records for lying in court. Do you have anything to say against this?"

"Such claims are false," he said through gritted teeth. He hated that Granger was right about his past lovers coming back to ruin him after being used. She had long since suspected that none of them was as airheaded as they put across. Draco didn't care much, in any case; it only meant that he had to build up his already constructed lie. "I have been completely loyal to my girlfriend, since it began. I wouldn't be anything but loyal to the woman carrying my child."

_Fuck, _Draco thought as soon as the words left his mouth. _How am I supposed to have her agree to being pregnant? Dating was one thing, but _this...

"Oh ho, so she's with child now, is she?" Draco heard someone within the court call out. He looked around for the speaker, but was unable to spot them since he had set off several others to call him a liar.

His nails bit into his palms. He was truly fucked if no one believed him, yet he couldn't help but blame himself for not thinking about what he was going to say. _She was "pregnant"._ Pregnant_. Bloody hell, Draco, you could've chosen something relatively believable._

The judge called for silence.

Jaxon Stewart leaned forward on his desk and looked at Draco unflinchingly. Draco stared right back. "If Miss Granger is indeed with child – your child and heir, then Malfoy Manor rightfully belongs to you. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy have long since passed away and your childhood home has been left abandoned. There is no doubt in my mind that you know that Malfoy Manor is now yours, yet you don't live there. In fact, you and your supposed have separate apartments in opposite sides of London."

"Not to mention it'll be the first Malfoy _bastard_!" Another male voice called out.

"Bastard-born, yes," Jaxon said contemplatively. "What happened to your Malfoy honour? Is there not enough for you to make an honest woman of Miss Granger? Perhaps because you don't want a half-blood heir - or is it because marrying a Muggle-born would be considered disgraceful in itself?"

_That, _Draco thought bitterly, _that is what I should've told them. That we were engaged. _He cleared his throat. _What was another lie on top of all this? Fuck it. _"I was actually planning on proposing to her at a later date, when we've settled things more, _before _the baby is born. She's only a few weeks along - she only took the test last week - so I have plenty of time to propose. We're visiting her family this weekend to tell them the good news. I wouldn't disgrace my family with not having the common decency to marry the woman carrying my child – whatever its blood status." He wet his lips. "As for the Manor, we haven't had time to discuss it yet. You all know very well that she was tortured in one of the rooms by my aunt. She's still traumatised."

He blinked slowly and let out a breath he'd been holding in. He allowed a small feeling of satisfaction to swell within him. He'd managed to navigate that shipwreck relatively well.

_And Hermione had thought that I'd been ignoring her requests for time off to go visit her Muggle family, or her mutterings of encouragement about having a break when she was stressed._ Draco scoffed internally. It was the perfect alibi.

"What sort of things need to be settled? Having her agree to this blatant lie, perhaps? I can scarcely imagine that Hermione Granger would freely agree to everything you've said," a young woman of the Wizengamot said.

Jaxon shot her a look that said to ask no further questions.

"I deny these accusations, whatever they imply," he said through gritted teeth. _The fucker was right. _He wanted to scream. "The fact of the matter is that Hermione Granger _is _pregnant with my child."

"Yet there is no proof of it, is there Mr Malfoy?" Jaxon asked tiredly. "It's all so _terribly_ convenient. We take your word for it – she's pregnant – we _have _to declare you not guilty by rights of the Law of Supporting Families. We deny your evidence – she's _not _pregnant – then there's the possibility that you are perhaps telling the truth, and we've broken one of our own laws and there's a public outrage. So how do we avoid that? We investigate your claim. However, that means we have to give Miss Granger – or the _future Mrs Malfoy-_" There were scoffs and snorts of laughter across the auditorium. "At least a month's preparation time and we postpone your trial further, which means you both – however unlikely it is – have adequate time to scheme against us and keep you out of Azkaban for good."

Draco gulped. He could feel sweat gathering on his forehead. Maybe he hadn't navigated the shipwreck well enough. "Lord Stewart-" Draco tried once more.

"Enough!" Lord Stewart yelled, smacking his gavel once more and shocking Draco into silence. "Roxton, Hugo, release Mr Malfoy." The Aurors took their commands and stepped away from Draco. "I have no doubt in my mind, Mr Malfoy that you've manipulated this entire court into setting you free – but I won't be so careless. Nevertheless, yes, because of your claims that Miss Granger is with child, we are prohibited to send you to Azkaban before the child is of the age to start a Wizarding school. An inquiry shall be sent out to gather information pertaining to your claims, and we ask, as soon as you return from your trip, that you and Miss Granger meet with Miss Rose Armstrong, Head Inquisitor, to answer questions about your relationship. If your relationship proves to be false, you will be convicted of lying to the court and another _three_ years shall be added to your original sentence. No chances will be taken in the case of conspiring together; therefore, both your memories will be examined separately.

However, in the miraculous circumstance that this relationship proves to be true, you and your family will be left alone until the time your child is 11 years of age. Once that time has come, your case will be looked through once more."

He began to feel the swell of triumph. _It had _worked. Now all Draco had to do was begin to build up the lies he'd constructed, with the help of Granger, and create his own defence case. First, he had to inform his assistant of all that had happened and persuade her into helping him, and then convince her to allow him to accompany her on her visit to her parents.

_It wouldn't be hard, _he thought. Draco already knew what his leverage would be – it wasn't that hard to manipulate someone when they were so obvious and single-minded, despite how clever she was. Hermione Granger was still the same girl he had gone to school with.

He'd deal with the pregnancy claims later. Everything needed to be done in precise steps.

Draco picked himself up proudly and began walking out of the hall as soon as Jaxon said that he was free to leave, seconds before the gavel struck again.

* * *

After collecting the stack of work Draco had left out for her on his desk, Hermione was relieved to retire back to her apartment. The staff meeting that he had made her sit through was a complete bore and hardly anything was discussed, much to her dismay. Malfoy could've missed it completely without sending in her as his representative, and he'd still know the workings of the company.

She only hoped that his trial had been more successful. As of yet, she had received no notice from the Ministry that her boss was convicted of being a criminal, and no such word from the man himself.

She took the stairs to her apartment today, not completely exhausted from running after Draco the entire day. As she approached her door however, she felt that some of the wards that she had put up had been shifted. No one was ever usually in her apartment without her to allow them entrance.

Grabbing her wand, which was still tucked into the back of her skirt, she slowly opened the door.

When she saw who was inside she sighed. "Honestly, can't you ever tell me when you're going to show up at my home? I would like some warning," Hermione said, setting her keys and the stack of papers down on the coffee table. Her eyes quickly searched the living room and kitchen in front of her, finding nothing out of place. Her eyebrows furrowed. The wards recognised the two of them, there would've been no need for them to take them down.

"Surprise!" Ron yelled happily around a mouthful of leftover curry as he walked out of the kitchen to settle on the sofas.

"Oh come on, 'Mione. We wanted to surprise you and take you out for a celebratory dinner," Harry said as Hermione picked up a roll of tissues and threw it at Ron to clear up his mess. "You've been working for that bastard for three years now. Merlin knows how you've lasted that long."

"I get a good pay check out of it," Hermione said, smiling.

"So you're coming out this time, right?" Harry asked hopefully. He stood up and brushed his slacks, Ron following suit, thinking they already knew her answer.

"Of course, we haven't been out together in ages. I would love to but..." Her smile faded and she gestured toward the papers in front of them. "I can't. I've got all of _this_ to do for tomorrow."

"That's fine," Harry said tightly, and for a moment, Hermione thought she would be lucky enough to be let off without any disagreements. He eyed the large stack wearily. "You can do it when we get back."

Hermione snorted without humour. "That'd be a well-needed miracle after the day I've had. I'm sorry, but I just can't."

They fixed her with their most disappointed looks. Hermione both felt guilty and angry.

"You need a break, Hermione. He's working you too hard," Ron argued. "You can't just do all his work for him!"

"He's very busy-" Hermione tried to argue. Which was true; he was busy not attending staff meetings, busy with women, busy with his trial and busy making her slave after him.

"Ron's right. You've got to quit - or, at least, threaten to," Harry urged. "Ask for time off, less paperwork! If you're really that important to the git, he'll do it."

All the while, Ron was eagerly nodding his head. "He's right, 'Mione. If you were doing all this work for me in the Auror department, I'd never let you go. I'd give you anything you want."

Hermione shook her head. This was her job, no matter how hard she had to work or how little time she had to herself. She wasn't about to go begging to Malfoy, and she certainly wasn't about to risk losing her job. Despite any changes to Malfoy's character she might have told them about, she knew what he would do and say to her before she even considered making demands. He'd laugh in her face, make some smug remark and fire her to further prove his point that she was a familiar face - but not necessary. If the boys thought he would do anything less, then they had obviously all but forgotten how he behaved when they were at Hogwarts.

She had made a promise to herself, and even if she worked herself to death, she would be dammed if he cracked her. "Not tonight," she said one final time.

"You're not his slave," Ron tried one more time as they left the apartment.

"I know," Hermione replied. She closed the door behind them, and groaned; she didn't want to be stuck indoors again, going through files.

_Damn Malfoy_, she thought. _Damn him to Hell. Damn him, damn him, damn him..._

"My, my Granger," a drawling voice came from behind her. Hermione gasped and spun around, recognising the voice immediately. She glared at her next intruder, her hand itching to find her wand and give him a well-deserved hex out of their workplace, which had a strict ban on offensive spells.

There, looking as impeccable in his suit as always, was a smirking, and highly amused, Draco Malfoy. He was idly leaning against the wall next to the staircase, a glass of red wine hanging loosely in his hands. If the glass and wine belonged to her, she wouldn't be surprised. "Your friends are stupider than I thought if they think I'd ever accept to be blackmailed like that."

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked harshly, blinking in disbelief. Her eyes narrowed as she jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction. "_You_ took my wards down."

"Well of course I did. I doubt those two idiots would be able take down those sort of wards. And anyway," he added with some note of disappointment, "it seems they knew where you hid your key."

"Malfoy," she said. "What are you doing here?" She folded her arms and leaned against the door.

He grinned over the rim of his glass and took a slow sip of the wine. She rolled her eyes. "Me and you, Granger; we've got some things to discuss," he said, licking his reddened lips. "I want you to go into your bedroom right now and put the outfit on. I don't want to hear any disagreements tonight, pet."

Hermione sucked in a breath, her cheeks red, and prepared to tell him that he didn't control what she did, especially outside of work. Draco immediately tutted and shook his head, repeating that he was in no mood to quarrel over this. "But I didn't even say anything," Hermione spluttered. It was as if he knew. It was as if he always knew.

"Bloody hell, Granger; just go do it. It's not some kind of lingerie, I promise you that." He grinned wider as her blush deepened and he knew that he was right about her thoughts. "Tonight, we dine. I've got one hell of a story to tell you, that you'll be interested to hear."

Hermione immediately knew that this had something to do with his trial, and she wasn't sure whether the story he was planning to tell was a good one or a bad one. Since her hiring, they had never once eaten together or been seen together outside of work. There had never been a time where Draco had called her upon her for something quite like this and she was curious, yet weary, of his reasons.

"Depends," she said warily, eyeing him up and down. "How did your trial go? Will I be dining with a criminal?"

"Not yet, my lovely," he said quickly, taking another gulp of wine. "Not yet and not quite. That's something that needs to be...discussed." She still looked wary and unconvinced, and Draco was beginning to get irritated. He needed this to work. Needed it; he didn't want to go there. He didn't deserve it.

"Oh come on, Granger. If I was a criminal, do you think I'd be so stupid as to go out in public? Don't you think I'd be in Azkaban by now? Give some credit where it's due, pet," he said.

"That's true," she allowed, grudgingly. _So his trial had gone well then_, she thought happily. She wasn't going to have to find a new boss. She sighed tiredly and folded her arms. "But I don't know."

"You can have anything from the menu," he said exasperated. He downed the rest of his wine. "I'll pay for it all."

It sounded nice, she conceded, and Draco paying for whatever she wanted only sweetened the pot. She was saving for a new place to live, so even if she had no work to do, she wasn't sure how willing she would've been to spend money when out with Harry and Ron.

_Still_, she thought, her eyes drifting to the stack of papers again. _It could be one of his attempts to make me late again. _

Draco tiredly followed her eye, paranoid that he was going to be late to his reservations. "Oh that," he said dismissively. He waved it off, uncaring. "Don't worry about that, pet. I'll have someone else take care of that. Consider it thanks for being my assistant for three years. Happy now? Time is of the essence."

Hermione allowed herself a small, satisfactory smile as she walked past him and up the stairs. She tried not to walk faster as she passed him, his calculating eyes trailing over her body.

She only hoped that Harry and Ron didn't hear about this. They would feel betrayed.

Draco smirked as soon as she was no longer looking at her. Oh how he loved uncovering people's desires for his own benefit.

He refilled his glass while he waited for her to be ready. He drank his congratulatory wine slowly; oh, he had all the time in the world.

* * *

"Wine for the lady?" Draco heard the waitress ask Hermione as she was filling his glass.

He wasn't paying much attention to what else was going on around the restaurant, or what his date in front of him was doing. However, he managed to wave the waitress off and send her away for some water before Hermione was able to accept.

She was infuriated, to say the least. "Last time I checked, I was allowed to have a glass of wine, if I wanted," she sneered as she perused her menu.

"You need a clear head, lovely. We have important matters to discuss, remember?" He murmured, not looking up from his own menu.

"_Oh yes_, like the verdict of your trial," she fired back. "Anyway, what about you? Don't _you_ need a clear head to relay your deal to me?"

Draco blinked and looked up from his menu. Slowly, he grinned. "Oh, so you've worked it out then? It took longer than I expected from you, I must admit. I like to think I hired you for your quick wit, but perhaps not..." He said aloofly. Smugly, he took a sip from his own glass. "All the more reason for you to stay away from the wine, then."

Hermione gritted her teeth. She set down her menu and tried to keep her voice down so as not to cause a scene. "Well, I thought that this is all clearly too much for a discussion," she retorted. "And don't you think you've had enough wine? You finished a whole bottle of Merlin's Finest before we even left the apartment."

He laughed quietly. "I can hold my liquor, Granger," he said. "But yes, you are right. This is a deal of sorts." He raised an eyebrow. "Anything else you've observed?"

Hermione decided that if she didn't lay all her cards on the table now, she'd only end up being tricked by him later, after hours of tiptoeing around the real problem. She'd seen him do this to clients thousands of times. "This is a deal about your trial, obviously. I don't know why or what you want from me – I know you'll tell me sooner or later tonight – but this has stemmed from your trial."

He hummed, looking impressed as he picked up his glass once more. He looked to his left discreetly, Hermione following suit, and said in a husky voice as the waitress returned with Hermione's water, "I like the way you think, darling."

Hermione only rolled her eyes and scoffed as she accepted the proffered drink. As she sipped the water, still furious with Draco for forbidding her from having _any _alcoholic drink, her stomach dropped. She clutched the glass tightly. Hermione raised her eyes to look at him and nervously wet her lips.

Draco, still acting as someone out on a date (which, much to Hermione's ire, he had strongly recommended she do – she had thought it was stupid and pointless at the time), relayed their orders to the waitress and patiently waited for her to leave.

Hermione impatiently waited for the waitress to leave. When she finally did, she said lowly, "_I know what you did_." It was hard to keep her voice quiet, but the amount of fury within it immediately gained his attention, which had previously been stuck on another waitress nearby.

Draco blinked. The smile dropped off his face and he blinked again. "_What?" _He said, paling. He had thought he'd had the upper hand in this, knowing more than she did and being able to twist it however he needed to or wanted. He held his own glass so tightly he was afraid that it'd break.

"I _know_ what you did. At your trial." He had never seen her so _angry_. There wasn't anything even remotely scary about Granger, in those three years that she had worked for him – and even before that when they were at school – apart from her ire. She vaguely resembled a Fury herself when she was angry, and Draco would've looked into her heritage a bit more in the off chance that she was distantly related to one but he knew – as everyone in the world did – that she was Muggle-born with no magical descendants.

He picked up his glass again and swirled the liquid around in the glass contemplatively, as if it was a particularly interesting distraction.

"I was right this morning back at the office; it _wasn't _enough. And you..._you_ had run out of evidence, clearly, to keep you out of Azkaban so you decided to introduce _me._"

"Now, now, Granger," he said uneasily. He looked around at the people dining around him in case they heard anything. He knew the paparazzi were usually around this place (which was why he had specially brought Hermione a new dress to wear out), and that they would be circling him since it was publicly known that today was the end of his trial, but he'd be dammed if he failed in his mission before he even started. "Why don't we skip this dinner, go back to my place and discuss this like – business partners?"

"What. Did. You. _Do_," she pressed though gritted teeth. "Did you say that we were dating, is that it? It is, isn't it? _That's_ why you brought us to this fancy place, and told me to behave as a couple would, and was going to pay for the whole thing."

A pause then, "Yes."

_There's more. _She fidgeted. _How much worse could this get?_ "What _else _did you tell them?"

"Look, Hermione-"

"_What else? _Explain, Malfoy. Now."

He leaned forward on the table, careful about knocking anything and attracting attention towards them. His whole mission was over. "I thought by telling them that you were my girlfriend would be enough to change the jury's minds _but_...you were also right about my lovers coming back to ruin me. And whatever you have to say about this will probably also be right," he whispered irately.

She didn't say anything, but she gave him a look as if to "_say_ _get to the point"._

He huffed. "You won't say anything more until I tell you out rightly? _Fine_." He set his glass down on the table, and casually reclined back in his seat. Draco caught her eye."I told them you were pregnant,"he said without preamble. "It was the only way."

Her hand flew to her mouth as she breathed in sharply and blinked in surprised. Her anger flared even more. "Do I _look _pregnant to you? What the _fuck _were you thinking?"

That was the first time that Draco had ever heard her swear. That's how he knew it was bad. "I was _thinking _that I did not – _do not – _deserve to go to Azkaban. Look, I just – I need you to help me, Hermione. I made these claims in court – in front of a jury, a judge, and witnesses – and so they have to investigate them, and therefore have postponed my trial. If they discover that I was _lying-"_

It was the first time she had ever heard Draco call her by her first name, but that wasn't about to change anything. "You should have thought of that before you lied _in court. _How could you think that I would _ever _agree to help you commit crimes? This is illegal, Malfoy!"

He said, "Everything is legal, my dear, as long as you don't get caught." His eyes were suddenly glittering with excitement. "You're clever, Granger. We both are, let's face it. The question is: do you really think that we have a large chance of being caught?"

Did she? It wasn't a hard question. Hermione looked around. Her eyes came back to rest on him, looking at her appraisingly and waiting for his answer. He was always waiting for an answer; not just any answer, but one that he wanted, needed.

"No," she said grudgingly. "But I don't want any part of your schemes. Whatever it is that you're planning to do – it's not going to work."

"Oh, isn't it?" He said. Hermione had heard this tone of voice before quite often when it came to tricky customers; she liked to call it The Man With A Dream. She promised herself that she wasn't going to be convinced by it. "Think about it, Hermione. We have an entire month from today to plan what we could do when we have to meet the Head Inquisitor to solidify my claims. _A month. _An entire month to do public things, like more dinners or going on days out shopping – or whatever. As long as we're together and we _look _like a couple._"_

"Malfoy, in a month I could possibly be showing my supposed pregnancy. Have you thought about that?"

He shifted in his seat now, and looked vaguely uncomfortable. Whatever he was going to say, Hermione could tell that he had both thought about it and didn't really want to have considered it as an option. "We could...I mean," he started uneasily. "The pregnancy - pregnancies don't always last. Something could...happen."

"Are you suggesting that within this month, I - why would I even want to abort "our" baby, anyway? Have you seriously thought any of this through? Can you hear yourself? There would be no way; we would have ever been able to do this with your plans."

"I'm not saying abortion, stupid. You're right - if you did that, you would have no motive to have aborted it. No, I meant..." He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "You _could _have a miscarriage."

"I'm still not agreeing to this Malfoy, it's only going to crash and burn. Quickly." She turned it over in her mind. "The miscarriage? That's mighty convenient, much like our sudden relationship. And how long after we announced it, am I going to have it? Will I be taken to St Mungos? That'll be one way to guarantee publicity. But..."

"You're not actually pregnant," Draco finished glumly. "So there's no way to publicly stage it. Unless, we make a statement."

"Exactly. Nevertheless, the Head Inquisitor - how is she going to prove the reliability of your claims?"

"Occlumency, I would think," he said. He sighed. "But we'd have no memories to prove it. Though, I was also given a pack of questions about each other, that we'd need to learn.

"You're catching on fast," she said sarcastically. "So you see, even if this wasn't illegal, I wouldn't sign my name to this plan."

Draco suddenly got a new light in his eyes. "Yet...during the month that we have...I'm not saying you have to have sex with me personally, Hermione, but what if we used Polyjuice? It can be anyone of your choice, obviously - and you can be drunk, if you need to be. And... I'll do the same."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me. Do you know how long it takes to brew Polyjuice? Your whole precious month! And do you really believe that we'd be able to drug someone with Polyjuice without any Ministry officials knowing? Or the people themselves knowing? Everyone knows about Polyjuice."

"Ah, but Granger, what if I said that I have several vials of it at home, ready to use? And here's the trick of the century, doll: we use Muggles. They won't have a clue."

"Oh? And where are you going to find a large choice of Muggles, away from the Ministry's eye, to drug, huh?"

Shockingly – or she supposed, not so shockingly after everything she had heard that evening – he looked sheepish. "I'm coming with you to visit your family."

"_What?" _She asked deathly quiet. Draco would have preferred her to shriek at him instead.

"You think I want this? That I would _willingly _want to go on holiday with you to meet your family?" He retorted snidely. "No. I'm doing this so that I don't have to go on a long-term holiday to _Azkaban, _if you've forgotten already."

"I thought we clarified that I want no part in this crime! You are _not _coming with me!"

"If you don't want to help me get away with this "crime", then why are we still discussing all the plot-holes?" He growled.

She scowled and opened her mouth to reply, but he quickly cut her off.

"I'll fucking tell you why, Granger. Because you know that if you don't _you'll_ no longer have an employer. Which means that you'll have to find a _new_ job that you can _progress_ in; one that you both _like_ and _want_. Well guess-fucking-what, pet? We wouldn't be here right now if you had found one that ticked all those boxes three years ago, now would we? And chances are you still can't, otherwise you would have left my employment by now. Moreover, if this has been about the money the entire time, you also know that should I be taken in, your pay check for this month will cease existing."

He took in a deep breath and looked challengingly in her hazel eyes, knowing that he already had her. He had had her from the moment she realised that he had been convicted, no matter what she said. _Fear over illegality? _Draco scoffed. Her whole life at Hogwarts had been based on illegality.

"So here's what's going to happen: you are going to explicitly tell me that you are agreeing to this – no more "law abider" bullshit. Then, we are going to discuss this further over the rest of the evening, before going back to my own apartment. You can Apparate back to your own home later, to pack your suitcase or whatever, but then you _will _come back to mine so we can be seen leaving together. While at your family's place, we will act the part of an in-love couple, and we _will _tell them that you are pregnant. We _will _give Muggles Polyjuice potion, and create some more...heated memories. After...however long you're planning to stay there for, we will start making our public appearances in Wizarding London. Sometime during all that – I don't know when exactly – we'll work out how to get around the pregnancy problem, don't you worry. Now, I haven't forgotten about the money. The day before my trial, I will give you 6 months worth of pay – in person – whether I am imprisoned or I am not. It'll be yours."

"Is that it?" She asked dryly, but they both knew what she was ultimately going to say.

"Well, there are some other technicalities such as moving into the Manor together – though, that doesn't actually have to happen. And then, after the trial, you can end it whenever you want – but not straight away," he commented lightly in return. "But yes, that is it. Are you ready to agree now?"

"What happens...What happens if you win this trial, however unlikely it is?"

He slowly reached for his glass of wine and swirled it around. "You want something more," he stated. "You want a reward for your help."

She nodded once. "For my troubles," she corrected.

"Name it." He paused and thought for a moment. "Is it your manuscript published, is that it?"

"You promised that when you hired me," Hermione pointed out, but Draco had already sensed that this was going to be it and he couldn't say that it was a bad choice.

"Ah," he said, wagging his finger at her. "But I didn't need to then; you were already in my grasp." He paused and pretended to mull the request over, as if Hermione hadn't seen him do that before. "So, you just want it published, yes? Is that it?"

"200,000 starting copies, like you promised."

"Of course. Done?"

"I also want you to organise for it to be advertised, as well as you do when it's one of your...more personal clients."

"I'll do it even better; you will be my girlfriend, after all." He grinned widely. "So, deal? That's it then, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said slowly. She tried to remember if there was anything else that she needed before the window closed. "I'll...help you in this, just this once. I'm not going to help you commit any more crimes in the future."

"Excellent!" He lifted his glass up for a toast, and Hermione grudgingly did the same. "To our future, darling, whatever may come out of it." Their glasses clinked and they took sips of their respective drinks. Suddenly feeling extraordinarily happy over what had happened, Draco held out his glass of wine to Hermione and let her drain what was left. "You may be pregnant, but I suppose a little alcohol won't do much harm. This is a _celebration_!"

She smiled slightly around the rim of the glass. The wine warmed her stomach and it felt much more like a celebration than it had. Hermione hummed her agreement.

"Did I tell you that you can keep the dress, by the way? You look absolutely ravishing in it, pet," he said, taking the empty glass away from her and trailing his eyes over her body, admiring his work. "I made a fantastic choice with it. Gryffindor red."

* * *

**A/N - God, it's taken me so long but I absolutely love, love, love writing this story. Review, follow and favourite please! **


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